


Maneater of Vale

by Lobb



Category: RWBY
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Cinematic, F/F, F/M, Gen, Jaune is an Assassin/Spy, Multi, Neon-Era, Retrowave, Slow Burn Romance, Spy thriller, Villain Protagonist, interplay of sex and violence, spy action
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:54:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21641299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lobb/pseuds/Lobb
Summary: The underworld of Vale was filled with the worst scum of the world.  Thieves like Roman Torchwick, mobsters backed by a pale hand leading them towards a mutually assured explosion, and a man who cautiously played the shadow game against the Queen of the World.Jaune Arc is the Maneater Lion of Vale.  Just one of it's many denizens, making a living off of the pain and suffering of others.And he loves his job.  [Retrowave / Neon Era setting]
Relationships: Jaune Arc/Harem
Comments: 11
Kudos: 42





	1. Killer Instinct

**Author's Note:**

> AN: For those of you aching for a new serious RWBY story by me in the vein of A Family Arc, look no further- wait, that’s a lie. This is going to be a retrowave mess of a Spy Action flick with the cast of RWBY. Why did I pretend this was going to be serious? That said, Jaune’s eventual Semblance in A Family Arc will make its debut here instead. Allow me to introduce you to Killer Instinct.

Her eyes told the story all their own. The silver reflecting the scene, like a still from a movie screen. The gun in his gloved hand, pointed between those pretty eyes. The deathly look in his own ocean blues as her tears started to dry. The ripped bottom of his blue long coat and the way his bodysuit clung to his torso while his legs were covered in a set of “tactical slacks”. The soft buzz of a red light’s wonderful neon sign annoyed him in the moment as the mask unfolded from his face and released his blonde locks. It was personal, so it was only sensible that he was the last thing she saw.

“Jaune- you don’t have to do this.” She whispered, and he pulled the trigger to the pronouncement of thunder.

Because he had to. Blood seeped into the pavement, and he turned away, his booted feet the only noises besides rain falling and the unbearable buzz of another neon sign.

  
  


+x+x+ **[Shaman’s Harvest - In Chains]** **A Year Earlier** **+x+x+**

  
  


_ Welcome to Vale. The capital of the Kingdom of- figure it out- Vale, on the continent of Sanus. A city filled with neon lights, and some of the coolest toys this side of Atlas. _

__ _ I came here six years ago. Who am I, you ask? The name is Jaune Arc. Short, sweet, ladies love to hate it. You might be asking- but how old are you? Well that’s fine. See, I’m eighteen. Just turned the big ole’ legal a few months back. _

__ _ Too bad I’ve had my taste of poisons and pleasures beforehand. But, that’s not what you’re here for, is it? You want the action. The drama. The romance. _

__ _ You want the pain, and the heartache. You want the confessions, the disgusting trysts in the back of city cabs. You want the smell of gunpowder, the sound of a sword separating someone’s head from their shoulders. _

__ _ You’re just like me, aren’t you? Well, that’s fine. Let’s start with a bang. It’s my favorite kind of noise beyond the saxophone. You’re in for the ride now. So, I hope you enjoy this recording. _

__ _ Fucker. _

His gaze turned outwards from beyond the lenses in his mask, a soft smile on his face as he stood in the alleyway just outside of the joint. At his feet laid an unconscious man in a black suit and red tie, his trilby hat knocked askew from the sudden attack from the rooftop. Aura and Semblances were handy like that.

**[I can’t stand here watching you fail-]**

He checked the magazine on his gun, and let his neck crane to an unsubtle pop. Then he began to step towards the door-

**[To tell the truth-!]**

A voluminous mass of shadows covered in lines of white burst forth from his chest as his foot raised with a sheath of white glow around it-

**[SOMEBODY BREAK THESE CHAINS-!]**

His boot went crashing into the weak handle of the door and sending the door flying. As the door flew-

**[WRAPPED AROUND THIS HEART-]**

**THE MANEATER OF VALE**

- _ Killer Instinct _ flew forward, the shadowbeast roaring in challenge as it latched unto the door guard’s neck and buried its teeth inside, tearing out flesh that sent blood welling up all over the collar of his suit, just below a tattoo-

**WRITTEN BY LOBB**

His arm raised, the heavy handgun in his hand gleaming with its matte black finish and the detail on the slide spelled out proudly  **HEAVEN IS HELL ON EARTH** , as he pulled the trigger and  _ La Tonerre _ announced her name loudly as a dust round swept through the air.

**STARRING** **JAUNE ARC**

As his hand swept at an angle, greeting the next man,  _ Killer Instinct _ broke away from the first body and swirled in a tornado of shadowy materials towards the first of the group to pour in from the nearby security office, past a dartboard with a flier posted on it with a picture of a young police detective with silver eyes.

**RUBY ROSE**

The muzzle of  _ La Tonerre _ flashed again, another Dust-enhanced round spelled doom from the chamber, another sunglasses-wearing thug sent sprawling from the impact of the round before it penetrated and splattered his lifesblood across a wanted poster of a Faunus with amber eyes and a stoic look on her face.

**BLAKE BELLADONNA**

One of the goons got closer, and he cocked his arm back, a manic grin on his face behind the matte black of his mask as the chambered punch flung forward, crashing into the man’s face and knocked him yards back into another man as the half of his Aura not pushed into  _ Killer Instinct _ was used to enhance his physical power. The stitching on his gloves-

**YANG XIAO-LONG**

-getting painted with spittle and blood as he stepped forward. Another flier came loose from the destroyed board a snowflake symbol standing out in stark relief, flitting into and through his Semblance as it shimmered in the air and flung itself with a snarl towards the first man to ready and level his Thompson at him-

**WEISS SCHNEE**

-screaming out in pain as claws rent into his body and tore open his jacket and shirt, leaving a man grasping at his exposed musculature as the masked enforcer raised  _ La Tonerre _ again, the next bullet tore between a pair of wide open eyes and sent the red sunglasses flying from the man’s face as his forehead opened up wide and his grey matter was exposed cleanly, blood flowing down the man’s face, looking for all the world like a star forming on his face-

**PYRRHA NIKOS**

-another man got in close, swinging his red-bladed machete at him. Jaune’s leg came up, crushing the man’s knuckles in mid-swing with his knee before his leg cocked back and the sole of his boot-

**LIE REN**

-crashed into the man’s sternum and caved it in, sending him flying back into his fellow cronies. A snicker broke free from his throat as he stepped over a corpse and absent-mindedly fired another Dust-round into a stunned man at his feet, the gunsmoke-

**NORA VALKYRIE**

-fading into the air of The Club’s back rooms as  _ Killer Instinct _ began to melt into the shadows, only a white gleam of his Aura-

**ALSO STARRING SALEM**

-the proof that it was still there was a large man with a rocket launcher atop a shoulder stepped forward, and he offered a smug grin behind his mask as he pointed the handgun at the man’s abdomen and the world lit up-

**OZPIN**

-and another Dust round fired from  _ La Tonerre’s _ barrel, the curl of flame and explosive dust washing across the bearded man’s gut and sent him reeling with a groan, correcting himself as he shouldered his weapon and Jaune got to look down its barrel-

**CINDER FALL**

The rocket of Dust came towards him, and he tucked himself into a roll as the explosive ordinance flew past his form and out of the Club’s back entrance, igniting against the brick wall of the building adjacent-

**THE MALACHITE TWINS & HEI XIONG**

- _ Four bullets, eight shots left. _ He thought to himself as he ducked back forwards unto his feet and ran full-tilt at the man, the rocket launcher turning into a massive baseball-bat like club as he closed in. The first swing feeling like it was in slow motion-

**ROMAN TORCHWICK** ** & ** **NEOPOLITAN**

As he ducked inwards and under the swing, side-aiming  _ La Tonerre _ once again as he pressed the rifled barrel of the customized Dust-hand-cannon against the man’s thigh and pulled the trigger again. The sound of thunder announcing the weapon’s firing was more muffled as the Dust round tore right into the flesh of the man’s leg and sent Hei Xiong falling forward without his leg to support him. A scream of pain lulled Jaune’s ears pleasantly as his attention moved from the wounded target towards the two girls standing at the far end of the hall, both in party dresses of red or white, and their weapons on display. “Junior!” The flash of their skirts-

**PROLOGUE**

**_Killer Instinct_ **

-announcing their movements as they sprung towards him and he judged their arrivals. One would swipe high with her claws, and the other would kick towards his legs. He pirouetted over Junior’s crumpled form and raised a leg to intercept the clawed sister in the breast while he used his free hand to unload  _ La Tonerre’s _ magazine. Knocking Miltiades Malachite out of the air and back through the door onto the dance floor they’d come from, he pumped Aura into his sole leg on the ground and hopped up. As he pulled another magazine lightly decorated with a small red painted dot on one side from the inside breast pocket of his midnight blue coat, he adjusted his center of gravity and brought his boot’s heel towards Melanie Malachite’s back as she spun and kicked with the bladed heels of her stilettos at where his feet had been.

She was knocked to the floor by his weight suddenly pressing onto her, and he raised  _ La Tonerre _ into the air and announced an end to the brawl with another gunshot sent into the ceiling, turning on the sprinklers as flames began to sprout from the ceiling, while beyond the door the Twins had arrived from, panicked screaming came around. “Well!” He gleefully noted out loud, his mask muffling his voice somewhat, “Junior, your place is always such a delight to visit. Whether I’m getting a dance with a pretty girl-”

His booted heel crashed into Melanie’s back, earning a pained mewl as he ground the tough rubber ground against her weakened Aura and knocked the wind from her. “-or getting info for my next job. So you know I wouldn’t be doing this if someone hadn’t paid me good money to remind you when you’re supposed to keep your mouth-”

_ La Tonerre _ turned as he swivelled atop the girl, earning another hurt squeak as the barrel of the handcannon levelled on Junior’s face as he tried to heft his rocket launcher up unto his shoulder without the support of a leg, bleeding all over the floor from the hole in his thigh. “-shut. Now. Lucky for you-” He uncocked the gun and raised it up against his shoulder, “I’m only here to spread a message tonight. Otherwise, you know you’d be dead. A bullet in the leg’s way better than that, right?” Though Junior couldn’t see it, he was smiling behind his mask.

Junior’s hands raised, the grimace on his face not at all easy to be faked. “Oh come on, we’re friends aren’t we, Junior? What’s a measly little bullet wound between friends? Just don’t go blabbing to the police, the F.E.A, or the M.O.A. again and we’ll be fine, right? Nod your head like you-”

**KRAK-OW-!** _La Tonerre_ announced itself again, a burst of flames spreading outwards from the floor a few feet beyond Hei “Junior” Xiong’s shoulders.

“- **FUCKING UNDERSTAND ME, HEI XIONG!”** He roared out, the hunger and desire to finish the job within him one of the downsides to his otherwise amazing Semblance when  _ Killer Instinct _ returned the Aura it had been constructed of.

As Junior rapidly nodded his head, Jaune settled himself down and he turned his gaze behind his mask down towards Melanie, struggling to lift herself up and out from under him, then towards the door Miltiades had flown through. “Sorry, girls. You know I want nothing but pleasure from you two, you just got caught up in business tonight. I’ll buy you some drinks next time I swing by, how about it, Mel? No? Aww, come on. You know I’ve been sweet on you since we met.”

“You . . . fuckin’ . . . asshole.” The white-wearing twin grit out, and he could only laugh.

“That’s usually third date material, baby. I like your aggressiveness, though. Maybe we can make this work after all.” With his banter accomplished, he stepped from the girl’s back and towards Junior, keeping his gaze on a swivel in case someone decided to be smart. As he passed by Junior’s crumpled form, he noted, “Ten thousand lien to keep your lips in line, Junior. Not as much as the twenty-thousand for shutting them permanently. But I like you and the girls, and you’re the only one who will serve me an Atlesian White in this town anymore. Go get that leg fixed up and don’t take it personally, and I’ll see you next week, to spend some of the money that got you shot at your place. Ain’t revenge sweet? Kind of bitter, too. Like alcohol.”

Unable to help it, Jaune Arc- the Maneater Lion of Vale- laughed as he stepped back out into the night and then tucked himself back up the side of a building unto the rooftops with a few careful handholds and leaps.

Even if Junior wanted the police to have nothing to do with his Club, they’d come to the reports of gunshots regardless. Junior could cover it up.

_ Probably won’t be able to go back there for a drink, though. Not unless I want to put my gun to his balls, anyway. _ That was kind of depressing on its own, since he’d actually come to like The Club since he’d started frequenting it last month after meeting Roman Torchwick there. Vale’s greatest thief was a great many things, and had many more, but a good sense of taste in hangout spots for ne’er-do-wells was amongst them.

Oh well, ten-thousand lien. And this way, he at least kept the place open. It was a mercy compared to the payout for just putting a bullet in Hei’s skull. Would he and the Twins realize that? Probably not. He’d tried, though. Such a goody-goodie he was!

The thought made him laugh as he leapt from rooftop to rooftop, the proud neon lights of the city’s red light district turning into the docks district, and he heard the sounds of sirens in the distance before he poured Aura into his legs and launched himself across the divide of a street and then returned to his easy lope of parkour across the city’s rooftops. The docks broke into the Industrial quarter and he hooked back around into the divide between the high-class district and the Industrial quarter, slipping down a light-pole and hearing the soft  **klak** of his boot-heels touching concrete again. As he glanced around, noting that he was alone on the street, he reached up and pressed into the neck-piece of his mask, sending it shuddering into pieces and collapsing into the collar of his bodysuit until it resembled a matte-black necklace.

Jaune Arc’s smiling face took in the sights of the world around him once again without the filter of the mask, reaching up to brush his gloved hands through his mussed blonde hair. As he walked off into the night towards his safehouse a block or two away, he slipped his hands into his coat’s pockets and let himself become another face in the faceless masses of Vale’s tape-decks and neon signs. The glow of an overhead sign announcing development of yet another  _ Schnee _ brand Dust factory as he hooked himself up onto the outside stairway into his safehouse stored away in the shell-building.

A window was hardly a door, but he couldn’t be seen entering the building normally, even if it didn’t look like someone was around to see it, there was always a pair of eyes in the dark. Vale was, after all, the base of “Mama’s” syndicate. After a quick cursory check for bugs- finding one tucked quietly into the wooden angle of the window with a smile. Miss Schnee’s attempts were getting better, even if he really ought to inform her that he’d start charging more per the attempt.

Thinking about Weiss Schnee made him bring out his Scroll, the black-detailed thing glimmering before the rich red screen opened up and he pulled his left glove off, pressing his thumb to the scanner for it to recognize him before he flipped over to the App for his proxy account, noting the fifteen-thousand lien deposit up above today’s pay and the past few day’s expenses, he felt a desire to call up the Heiress and prod at her.

A glance at the time on his Scroll noted that it was a little after Eight PM, and he’d left for the job at Junior’s at about Five. Ten-thousand Lien for a three hour job that had really been more of a two minute job? He had to be one of the most well paid people in all of Vale with that kind of rate.

Too bad none of it was legally taxable. What he’d give to be the man posing half-naked on some magazine, being proclaimed as Vale’s most eligible Bachelor. If he ever got out of the shadows, he’d have to write a tell-all biography. He was sure it’d sell like hotcakes after a Friday night bender.

As he tucked a mass of pre-cooked fried chicken into the oven to heat for dinner, he slumped onto his couch and unzipped and kicked his boots off under the coffee table with it’s surface clear of anything save for a holdout pistol and a couple of magazines neatly organized, from the regular ammo on the far left to the expensive Gravity Dust in the far-right-most.

_ Killer Instinct _ flushed free from his chest, the mass of writhing shadows in the shape of a lion swiping the remote up into the air and he grasped it, turning on the television as his Semblance slumped unto the cushions next to him. “Hey, no cats on the merchandise.” He remarked with no real heat, uncaring as the Aura construct ignored his orders and spread out like a housecat might.

_ “Police were called to the scene of a shooting in Vale’s entertainment district, the eponymous Club shot up with four dead, the proprietor Hei Xiong wounded, and six hospitalized.” _

He popped out his Scroll again, grinning idly as he tapped out a message.

**J: Hey, Princess. Got your payment, always a pleasure doing business with you. I’d love nothing more than to pleasure you for business.**

_ “With us is Detective Rose, of the VPD’s Criminal Forces department, the VPD’s youngest Detective since her mother, deceased Detective Summer Rose-” _

His eyes were drawn away from the black-and-red electronic, amused at the sight of the girl in her red coat with her mechashifting weapon strapped to her back, the fluttering tails of her red long coat on the screen making him admire her taste in fashion.

_ “Although we have no evidence yet until the investigation concludes-” _

The buzzing of his scroll alerted him to a response-

**W: You are disgusting, and I would never stoop to the level of being touched by you.**

He couldn’t help the laugh that came free from his throat.

_ “-it is my belief that this was an orchestrated attack by sources related to the leak to the Mistralian Outer Affairs upper echelons last week.” _

**J: I promise, the best come from the mud, and its always better when you get dirty at the end of the night.**

He didn’t get a response, but he knew somewhere in her penthouse suite, Weiss Schnee was stewing and fuming.

Jaune glanced over at  _ Killer Instinct _ with a grin, the shadow-beast looking at him in askance with white-glowing eyes.

_ My name is Jaune Arc, and I’m the Maneater Lion of Vale. The premiere espionage and assassination expert of the Vale-based Syndicate, headed by Salem- codename “Mama”. _

__ _ And this is a story about blood, sweat, tears, and way more neon than is healthy. _

__ _ I hope you’re strapped in, because it’s gonna be a hell of a ride. _

**HEAVEN IS HELL ON EARTH**


	2. Kingsmas and the Kitty, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Killer Instinct
> 
> The Semblance of Jaune Arc. Creates an Aura construct of whirling shadows and his Aura that uses the basis of his darker desires. The Semblance resembles a lion wreathed in shadows, and acts akin to a hard light construct in that the toughness of it is dependent upon the Aura put into it's creation. When in use, Jaune's aggressive tendencies are muted, though when the construct returns to him, his murderous urges are heightened due to the Grimm-like nature of the Semblance. Aura expenditure for the construct is based on the amount used to create it, and it can take an equal amount of damage before being shattered like Aura normally can be. While it is autonomous in many ways, it only is aware of and knows what Jaune knows in the same instant.
> 
> The limits of the Semblance seem to be related to how it cannot go far from Jaune before beginning to bleed Aura, and the stress it puts on the user's mental state.

_ Let me ask you a serious question real quick. What do you get for the woman who owns everything? _

_ … What? A bigger closet? This wasn't a joke, you asshole. I have to give you props, though, that was pretty funny. _

_ No, you give her  _ **_Loyalty_ ** _. You show her that you belong to her. That the only thing that's gonna put you out on her is death- and sometimes not even then. _

_ I was twelve when I ended up in Vale. Fresh off of losing my family to the Grimm surge that flooded Ansel and turned it into a ghost town. You'd think I'd have starved and suffered for it, but I got treated like a little Prince when the big scary lady with her nice blood red skirt-suit and the big black coat introduced me to Tyrian Callows and Raven Branwen. _

_ Tyrian taught me how to kill, though he never did like guns the way I learned to. Raven was a more muted teacher, she taught me how to be mean. You'd never guess it from her public persona as a jazz singer, but that lady could kill you with a stare or a few words. _

_ Yet Mama was the one you needed to watch out for. People told me over and over that I must have been her favorite, because I never saw her glare at me the way she treated Cinder, Arthur, or the others. _

_ When you saw something ruin your life when you were that young, you either broke or adapted. And baby, I'm a fucking torque wrench. _

"Jaune, you look distracted." His attention returned, blue eyes raising from the plate half demolished of the steak and linguini marinara on it. His eyes drifted over the regal features of the woman across from him, her platinum blonde hair and light blue eyes overwritten by snow white and burning blood red for a moment before he cracked a grin.

"Sorry, Mom." The face of Alexandria Arc turned stern for a moment, before relaxing back into a more muted stare. If Salem, posing as his adoptive mother and Aunt, had one thing she wasn't quite good at anymore, it was smiling without malign intent.

"Of course. You must have been busy last night."  _ You'd know that. You're the one who sent me to shut Junior up at Cinder's behest. And I'm sure that cunt is angry I didn't just put him in a casket. Fuck, never has a woman been so hot yet I couldn't get turned on by her if she stripped naked and called me Daddy. _

The mental image of that, the ravenette woman's hair luxuriously draped across her breasts-

-didn't remotely earn the reaction it should have.  _ Ugh. Fuck that bitch. _

Another ravenette with similar eyes filled his mental vision. Soft, alluring lips curled in a shy smile showing just the tiniest point of elongated canines alongside inky black hair falling across peach-colored skin which he'd left bruises on many a time. The twitch of her feline ears always made him smile, even as a husky breath sent a smoke filled breath out-

**Chapter One**

**_Kingsmas and the Kitty, Part One_ **

He could almost smell the scent of the menthol in her particular brand of cigarettes when she was relaxed with him. Memories of being curled up on a couch, a cigarette limp on her lips and one of his arms wrapped around her while they watched a cheesy romance movie, both damn near naked.  _ I hope she's okay. _

  
  


"I'll have another assignment ready for you in a few days. Until then, take it easy, Jaune." He nodded his head in turn, glad for the time away from work. As they finished their meal and stepped from the restaurant, he offered his boss an arm as they walked to the limousine in waiting.

As he first allowed the magically disguised Salem into the limo, he noted, "You know how much I hate time off." It was a lie, but it earned the reaction he expected from her.

A dry, but humored, smile. "Of course. Go on the prowl for another "lioness" then, why don't you? Stay out of trouble, Jaune." With that, the window on the limo rolled up and pulled away. He tucked his coat up against his jawline and let loose a light sigh.

_ Kingsmas. Alone. Fuck me. _ The Winter Solstice in Vale, filled with romance and greed. It reminded him of better times, when he had a "lioness" to call his own.

Fuck his bleeding heart to death for letting her go when she wanted to make a difference. He hadn't seen her in a year except on her wanted posters, and those didn't do her justice.

As he started to make his way towards The Club for a drink, he pulled his Scroll from his pocket and dialed the number for Junior. Better to see if he'd be allowed to drown himself in cocktails and cigarette smoke before he went and got in a firefight just with  _ La Tonerre _ .

**Click.** "What do you want, asshole?"

"Seeing if you were mad still about the bullet thing. I got two-hundred lien for some drinks if you're not. I'll pay for you and the twins a round, just to show no hard feelings?"

"... it better be the good shit."

"That's my boy. I'll be down soon. Tell Mel and Mil to wear something nice."

"Oh suck my dick--"

"Sorry, not my type."

**[Cassetter - Drive Through the Night]**

The city was so lit up with neon you couldn't see the stars up above, pulsating lights promising shows and hooch on every square of the red light district, just the way it ought to be.

As he turned onto the street the Club he occupied, he let his eyes drift about, noting the various escapes and entrances, as well as premium killzones. One didn't get to be Salem's espionage expert in Vale off of just a recommendation, after all. Six hard fucking years of training, grueling drilling, and breaking down the remains of the little blonde boy that had been "rescued" from Ansel's wreckage by his "Aunt" adopting him after the tragedy of Ansel's fall.

Was Junior stupid enough to try and pay some dumb young gun to try and do what Adam Taurus, and countless others hadn't managed? Probably not. Junior was a smart man. Not the strongest, but he'd been running The Club, his information racket, and half of the Underworld of Vale portioned to him from Salem via Cinder's machinations.

The Fall mafioso, for all it consisted just of Cinder and her chosen henchmen, had been brought up about at the same time he'd ended up being groomed to be Salem's personal spy and assassin since Tyrian couldn't integrate in society with his . . . Insanity.

The man could kill someone sixteen-thousand different ways, but hold a conversation? Please.

Cinder was a better conversationalist, and she couldn't shift gears away from "I think I'm the baddest bitch since Lassie."

As he slipped into the VIP entrance past a couple of sunglasses wearing goons, he glanced towards the floor once again stuffed with bodies. He noted a few of the thugs loitering noting him and unsubtly glaring his way.

His attention went towards the bar, seeing Junior stuck behind it with a new bartender's outfit, favoring his shot left leg as Melanie and Miltiades stayed close to the bar, obviously ready to fuss over him if necessary.

It was nice to see that the girls cared, even if they were normally so sassy towards Junior that he was sure the girls were prone to acting that way towards people they liked regardless. As their green eyes rose and met his, he curled his lips up into an idle smirk. Miltia’s hands clenched at her sides and Melanie’s thighs tensed above her stockings and boots.

They were so predictable. That was part of the fun of screwing around with the girls, though. They weren’t a match for him on a good day and he on a bad one, but who was he to deny them the fun of a little tussle now and then?

As he closed in, the twins started to separate and flank, but a grunt from Junior made them relax, and he nodded in turn. He’d still check the drinks for poison, but- hey- it was better than a hostile reception.

“Mel. Mil. Junior. Good to see money is enough to keep you all in the right frame of mind.” The pulsing beats of the music in the background- a synthetic mix of old school jazz and electronic music- made him want to tap his foot, but he instead settled into a seat, amused at how Melanie and Miltiades took up flanking seats near him. Even with just  _ La Tonerre _ in the holster at his ribs, he felt confident. He slipped his right glove off, absentmindedly noting the sanguine color of his nails as he did so, tucking it into a pocket in his coat as Junior glared at him over the bartop.

“You shot me.” The tall man remarked, and Jaune shrugged in turn.

“I did. Business is business. Are you gonna listen to good advice, or am I going to have to do it again?” The shift of the twins at his sides drew his attention, though when they didn’t make good on the swings he expected, he nodded his head again. Junior relaxed against the countertop, a frown stretching out his goatee.

“Atlesian White?” To which he nodded again, pulling a hundred-lien chit from his pocket and sliding it over the counter.

“And pound back something for the leg, and let the girls get whatever they want. No hard feelings. I just want to drink and mope out in public.” As Junior took the chit and began to mix the drink, he let his elbows settle onto the countertop, rolling his neck to a pair of disturbing pops before he glanced first at Miltiades, then Melanie.

Both girls were glaring still, and it was obvious that he was “Threat Number One” for the night. That was just fine with him, really. The attention of two extremely pretty girls was hardly a bad thing. He was even used to being stabbed at by them. As the song over the speakers changed, he felt a pulse in his pocket that made him bring out his phone-

-ignoring the way the Twins startled at it as he pulled the electronic from his pocket-

-he slid it open and tilted his head. “Wonder what the Princess wants.” He mused, pulling up the messenger app and noting the text on the screen.

**W: I have need of your services.**

Letting his fingers fly through the keyboard, he let a grin slip unto his features.

**J: Well, I have some time to kill. What’s another body? Unless you’re finally going to give me a chance to make you sing opera a whole new way.**

He put the device back away for a moment, noting as Junior put the milky and caramel-swirled beverage in front of him, he dipped his painted forefinger in the liquid and pulled it free after a moment, noting that his nail stayed dyed red. Nodding with satisfaction, he pulled a fifty lien chit and slid it across to Junior, who raised a brow.

No point releasing those kinds of secrets. Cupping the chilled glass, he brought it up to his lips as another pulse went off against his side. As he pounded back the altogether creamy and bitter drink, he let loose a cough from the sudden burn and pulled his Scroll free again.

**W: I don’t have time for your games. When can you be here?**

Well, it was urgent, it seemed.

**J: Send a car over to The Club, and I can be there as fast as your man can drive me.**

Business was going to pick up, it seemed. “Junior, it’s your lucky day. Looks like all of that is a tip. Thanks for the drink, but the pleasure of a different kind calls.”

The tall man narrowed his eyes, but said nothing as he stood up from the bar, feeling the pleasant rush of sugar and alcohol coursing through his system as he gave the Twins a cheeky grin. “Ladies. Promise to be gentle with you next time.”

“Whatever.” Melanie grunted out, and he laughed off her dismissal. He pulled his glove free from his coat pocket again and slipped it on as he made his way back out into the night air. He only had to wait a few minutes, enjoying the way the alcohol intensified his senses and made the chill of the night all the more pleasant against his skin.

As the black company car pulled up near him, he tucked into the back seat with a buzzed smirk. The driver was a darker skinned male with a faded haircut and a set of sunglasses that he was sure weren’t necessary in the middle of the evening, but probably had some kind of display on the inside of the lenses.

Atlas tech was quite something, even though it was probably the same kind of read outs his mask could show if he would activate it- but he preferred to save the battery power for more vital systems than such goofy things as an Aura meter and a heart rate monitor.

Arthur’s incredible resources not-withstanding, he let his eyes wander out unto the cityscape as they slipped unto the highway and began to haul ass faster than was legal back into the highrise sector. He could already see the top of The Kingdom, where he knew Weiss was posted up in Suite 14, with her official listing under Suite 2.

**[The Midnight - River of Darkness]**

As they pulled up to the curb outside the hotel, Jaune could already sense something was wrong. There was no staff waiting outside to check arrivals- and worse than that, the lobby was completely dark. His eyes narrowed, and he reached in to pull his handgun from its holster. “Go hit the VIP exit, and if Miss Schnee doesn’t call you in the next ten minutes, get on the feed with whatever security she has left in Vale and get them here.” As he barked the orders, he slipped from the car and let his boot-clad feet carry him up into the door, and through the lobby.

The stink of blood was strong here, and it knocked the pleasant haze that remained from his earlier drink out of his system. And it was easy to tell where it was coming from, some staff laid on the floor, sizeable gashes tore into their torsos or necks, though a few panicked Faunus employees were hidden behind the desk. From the look of things, the building’s electrical grid had been knocked out.

_ This is a hit. _ He knew immediately. Hotels like this, especially huge expensive ones where VIPs stayed, had back-up generator upon back-up in order to get the security shades down to protect the people in it.

_ Weiss only has a detail of five guys, and they’re in street clothes at best. Whoever did this is either a professional with a grudge, or … _

__ His eyes widened, and he gave up on something as insane as being slow. He tucked  _ La Tonerre _ back into his holster as he prepared to do something that would expend some aura, but he didn’t have time. He had fourteen flights of stairs to ascend. Pumping aura into his legs, he vaulted up the shaft to the closest landing he could reach, hooking himself up unto the fifth floor bannister and then turning and doing another Aura-powered leap up into the upper layers.

As he vaulted over the last bannister unto the fourteenth floor, he booted open the stairway door and pulled  _ La Tonerre _ in a smooth motion, sweeping it down the hall before noting that the hallway was even darker than the lobby had been.

_ Shit. _ He didn’t need to rely on his sight, but he had a feeling that that was something the assailant was equipped to deal with.  _ A Faunus, or someone with night vision goggles. And me without a flashbang. _

The downsides to getting dragged into a situation beyond his control. On the bright side, no bodies yet. Downside? No bodies yet, and it was deathly quiet. That meant that either the assailant was already here and had dealt with the security detail inside of Weiss’ room, or they hadn’t found her yet.

Jaune prayed to Salem that it was the latter. Weiss was ostensibly just a client, but she wouldn’t be much good to him dead.  _ Besides, I’d still kind of like to show her a much more fun throne to sit on. _

As he ducked down the hall,  _ La Tonerre _ in his dominant right hand, he reached the door marked  _ 14 _ and noted it was still closed. Taking a deep breath, he started to shoulder it open-

-and ducked back when a Dust-enhanced round tore its way through the door, making him press up against the wall a few feet down, more gunshots tearing holes in the wall as he rolled back towards the door and planted his feet against the bottom of it and-

- **pushed** with Aura-enhanced strength. The door not able to withstand such focused force that it knocked the hinge loose and sent the door crashing inwards as  _ La Tonerre _ came up.

Glints of gold answered his eyesight, and his hands tightened on the carved wood of his weapon’s handle, the first loud  **KRA-KOW** of the hand-cannon bellowing out her might as the shadowy assailant ducked behind a countertop. The stench of gunpowder and blood filled his nostrils as he corrected his stance with an Aura-enhanced arm and flung himself into the room feet-first after the metaphorical spook.

Tucking into a roll immediately after his landing, he mentally nodded his head when a fire Dust round crashed into the place where he’d planted his feet. Keeping  _ La Tonerre _ in his right hand, he took stock of what was in Weiss’ suite living room.

_ Two feet from an end table, they ducked behind the countertop- I’d cut out and go get near the windows. Closer to the bedroom where Weiss is probably holed up with Myrtenaster- _

He launched himself over the end table, landing across the couch on the other side as a bullet let out a loud  **CRASH** as it wrecked the lamp that had been on the end-table before he’d sent it flying with his body-mass-

_ -Hahaha, I like this one. A little slower and that would have been me. Alright, gunshot from near the bathroom, they’re moving towards the bedroom. So, if I shoot- _

He corrected himself, rolling off of the couch with the barrel of the thundercaller aimed starkly between the part of the room where he’d heard the gunshot from and where he knew Weiss would be if she was still alive. A hiss and a curse answered him, though he didn’t hear the soft impact of a bullet rending flesh.  _ Damn it. Off by a bit. _ The soft  **Ssshhhhiink-** made his eyes widen.  _ Sword! _

An easy guess, as he tucked and rolled once again, over the coffee-table just in time to hear another  **KRASH!** as the poor bit of expensive wooden furniture was cut in half and then sent spiralling over his head.

_ Is this- _

He felt the burning in his heart-

He worked up unto his feet and darted back towards the source of the swing, upraising his unoccupied arm and catching a wrist as the handle of a katana bit in against his elbow. The sting was mitigated by the adrenaline flooding into his system. Tilting himself, he brought his hip in and cocked his knee, aiming just a little bit lower than his own kidney-

-knee crashed against knee, and  _ he heard the soft sound of stiletto heels. A smile shared in the darkness, the scent of menthol. A hug on a rooftop, fingers interlaced and steps in synchronization that were a perfect tango. _

He brought  _ La Tonerre _ up and thrust the hardened and reinforced barrel right towards throat-height, wincing when it was knocked askew with a slapping hand in the darkness. He corrected the attack into an elbow towards the temple, and advanced forwards a step-

_ Pouty lips curled up in a cheeky grin, purple-painted nails caressing his own as the saxophone in the background told them how close and intimate the moment was- _

His adrenaline pushed out through his system, and his leg cocked as the assailant retreated at his advance, the sounds of their feet scratching against hardwood floors drowned out by one another.  _ Draw back the blade, stab at the chest, when I block it, they’ll kick- _

_ La Tonerre _ came up, the reinforced metal sending sparks flying as the red blade kissed it’s edge and brought into stark relief the detailed writing on it’s slide. Glimmering gold ignited in the darkness again, and he brought his leg up to evade the sweep and hooked his leg in behind the knee-

_ A black dress, lengthy and refined. Standing out from her peach-skin and the white and blue flower tucked in against her left ear, twitching every now and then as she pressed against him and he dipped her- _

A flurry of knees and elbows flung, being blocked in turn before they’d trade. The assassin was slippery all on their own, even with both on the ground now,  _ he felt the softness of her chest against his, and felt the way her hips pressed against his own. _

A snarl entered his ears, and he ducked his head back as the golden glows closed and slammed forward, the headbutt going awry into his chest rather than crashing into his nose.  _ La Tonerre _ was flung from his hand and he gave up on chasing after his weapon in favor of ducking the next elbow swung his way, underarm grabbing for a wrist and stretching it at an angle diagonal from their body, hearing the clatter of something long and heavy and a hiss of pain.

_ A bulletwound, staining her white shirt red while she sat quietly with a book open in her lap, a half-smoked cigarette hanging from her lips limply. She’d look up, and he’d grin just before he offered his hand to her. _

Teeth sank into the collar of his jacket and he was privately thankful from the sound of heated breathing mingling with the  **thumps** of knees crashing into his thighs again. One arm kept the arm that had held the sword, while the other tried to hook inwards--

_ Fingers raking through long black locks. An uncertain, worried look shared between two dancers as he discovered what love was for the first time. Wanting to keep someone alive, rather than end it. Rather than another stack of lien chits- _

-growling when his arm met nothing but air and the shadow slid free from under him as if she hadn’t been there at all.  _ FUCK! NO! NO! NONONONO! _

There was only one person that ever could have been, and he knew it to start with, but that didn’t make this situation all the more  _ fucked up. _ _ She’d go for the objective, she knows she can’t take me even in the dark- if she’d want to take me at all! _ He scrambled to his feet, ignoring his weapon on the ground nearby as he charged full-force towards the bedroom door.

That momentary sense of panic seemed to coincide with the shadow’s, as he ploughed into a figure with his shoulder and a mewl of pain filled the air before being cut off into a breathless gasp as the assailant was crushed between him and the reinforced bedroom door.

_ Damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it- _ The bestial instinct took over, and he felt a leg hook around his hip, his free arm coming up to block a thrown elbow before he tucked his hand around and grasped just under the meat of the shadow’s bicep. A single golden glow turned and his night-vision had started to adjust enough that he was seeing a shape more than just relying on his other senses.

_ Her tears, and his own blurred vision. He was loyal. Both to her, and to Salem. But Salem was someone you couldn’t just walk away from. Especially not to just go and be a killer for a different cause. If she’d asked him to run away with her, he’d have done it in a heartbeat. Instead, she’d asked him to join her in her fight for the cause. _

__ _ It’d been the fight that’d ended their relationship. It’d been the thing that’d broke his heart- _

He felt the ribbon of Gambol Shroud start to unwind from her wrist, and he pulled his shoulder free to crush his palm against her throat as she turned, a muted gasp coming free as both legs hooked around his hips and her heels dug into the meat of his thighs-

_ -She smiled at him, raking purple-painted nails through his blonde locks while they laid there, naked. So satisfied, so fulfilled. She was normally stoic, but it was small moments like this that he knew that she cared about him. That he was one of the few people in the world she could be -herself- around. _

His Aura reacted, and her own was shielding her from the brunt of the blunt force trying to crush her throat. A glowing golden eye cracked open and he could almost make out the outline of her lips as they parted, and she hissed-

“What are you doing here, Jaune?” In that lovely, gentle voice that had always allured him. Ever since he’d first seen her, even, he’d be mesmerized by Blake Belladonna.

And yet here they were, at odds once again.

His grip weakened somewhat, even while her legs tightened around his hips, and he felt bit by bit his Aura being drained by the heels of her boots digging into his flesh and making him wince. “Stopping you from killing my client.” He grit out in turn, as the haze of the darkness lifted in favor of his blue eyes gazing upon her face again.

The alluring, slightly Mistralian features no doubt picked up from her mother. The pinned back cat ears he’d always teased her about, but thought were both adorable and unreasonably sexy. Those pouty lips that even then he wanted to  **kiss** and suck the very  **breath** from her body. “You know who she is- you know what her family  **does** , Jaune!” She hissed, and he didn’t have a chance to reply as her legs unwound from his hips- him missing the heat of their bodies pressed together- and her stilettos planted in his chest and he was sent flying with the force of her Aura-enhanced kick.

_ Fuck, I forgot how flexible she was. Salem, not now, boner! _

__ As he was knocked over a chair, he tucked back into a somersault atop the remains of the coffee table, spying a familiar blood-red blade as he swept it up with his foot and kicked it into his hands just in time to duck behind the couch to evade a pair of gunshots, rolling to the side and charging once again as he saw Blake’s glowing golden eyes turn towards the bedroom door again before she faced him head-on, the subtle  **shhk-clink** of  _ Gambol Shroud _ being turned back into its sword-form.  _ She’ll feint me and go for a kick before I close the distance, Wilt is longer, so she’ll want to keep me at a range where she can shoot me, or where I can’t make use of it’s reach- _

Gambol’s blade swung high, and he saw her pirouette and stab out with her heel, rather than ducking or blocking, he whirled the red-bladed sword in his hand and held it in an icepick grip as he jabbed the bottom of the handle into the curl of her boot and jammed the kick, adjusting his grip on the blade into his left hand and watching as Blake brought the ninjato around again and he brought  _ Wilt _ ’s blade up and crushed into her swing. The flying sparks igniting the distance between them that he could see her lips curled up into a snarl. The beauty of her in the dark was striking.  _ Semblance, she’ll attack from the back- it’s always the back- _

As the Shadow Clone faded into ether and bled off his momentum, he planted his free dominant hand against the reinforced door to Weiss’ bedroom and kicked backwards, rewarded with a grunt of released breath and the sound of her tumbling over the broken remains of the coffee table.  _ La Tonerre is over there. If she gets her hand on it and she has Gambol Shroud still, she’s going to shoot me. But I can’t let her get back near Weiss’ room, so I have to block, and she knows that- _

__ **PR-KRAK-PR-KRAK-**

_Guess she didn’t go for it._ He was privately thankful. Blocking _Gambol Shroud’s_ bullets was easier than _La Tonerre_ ’s heavier caliber. _Or she grabbed it and is waiting-_

**KRAK-OWW!** He hoped Weiss wasn’t near the door, the huge flash of light from his handgun’s firing blinding the room for a moment as he ducked out of the way of the shot instead of using the flat of  _ Wilt _ to block like he had with Gambol’s bullets, watching the Dust-enhanced round punch a hole through the reinforced door.  _ Of course, that gun is designed to tear a hole in damn near anything, so no surprise there. _

__ It was crazy, but he had to do something crazy to get her back off her footing and into his wheelhouse again. He flipped Wilt over in his hand, and judged the throw with his off-hand, launching the chokoto towards his ex, the whistling of the blade splitting the air followed by him ducking in after it. The sparks of  _ Gambol Shroud _ knocking the blade away giving him the time he needed to pull his Scroll from his pocket and hurriedly hit the camera function.

He heard the soft  **whish** of  _ Gambol’s _ ribbon as it swung towards him, and he put out his empty arm to intercept it and let it lash around his wrist before he cocked his wrist and let his eyes close. “Cheese, baby.” He noted dryly as he pressed the button-

**Cha-kaan-** A howl of sensitivity answered him as the flash of the camera filled the room even through his eyelids and blinded Blake’s night-sensitive eyes. The clatter of  _ La Tonerre _ was familiar to his ears, and he launched himself bodily at Blake, intending on using his superior weight to knock her to the floor again. She recovered just in time to curse out his name as his elbow pinned against the shoulder with Gambol’s handle at the bottom. Adrenaline coursed through his veins once again as he straddled her hips and battled with her to tear the weapon out of her hands and leave them scrambling with one another again. Knees and elbows being thrown to either stop each other’s blows from landing or to try and force a change in position.

_ Sheesh, I haven’t had a girl this desperate to get out from under me EVER. _ He thought idly as the fight started to go out of the Faunus, and he found himself staring once again into those gold eyes-

-as the lights cut on and both had to tightly close their eyes with mutual groans. “Fuck me, who turned on the lights?!” He growled out, blinded from his adaptation to the dark, and he imagined Blake wasn’t much better beneath him.

“Get  **off** me, Jaune!” She hissed, bringing her knees up and into the back of his hips again and again, even while he rested backwards more and pinned her fully under his weight.

With the generators pumping again, he had the chance to take a breath and let his eyes open, the blur that was Blake Belladonna under him coming into focus again. The tight black bodysuit and the deep purple jacket that served as a bunch of pockets for ammo a fond memory that he couldn’t help but snicker at.

“Baby, I’d get you off anytime. But right now? You’re asking me the wrong question.”

As amber eyes glared up at him, he settled a bit and noted the heat in her cheeks, the rosy pink that had always had such promise right before they’d do something that would more aptly be called  **rutting** than  _ fucking _ or  _ making love. _ Fuck him if he thought she’d be up for a roll in the hay while Weiss Schnee was just a room away waiting to be killed, though.

And that girl was worth way too many zeros in his back account to let  **that** happen. “Blake, let’s talk this out. Please. For me.  **Please** , baby.” He wasn’t used to grovelling, but he’d take the dog house over hurting Blake any day of the week. Technically, he did the moment they met.

She’d been the only target he’d ever let walk away. Adam hadn’t been so lucky, and he still wasn’t sure if she hated him for that, or loved him for it. He wanted to be prideful and say it was the latter, considering she’d dated him after, but- well-

-they lived in a world of ugly shadows waiting with knives, so who was to say that she hadn’t simply wanted to stab him in the back?

If someone did, it’d be Blake. She was one of the few people beyond Salem he’d ever trusted.

“What’s there to talk about, Jaune?” Blake hissed, her eyes fixed firmly on his face, and despite himself he couldn’t help the way his body reacted to seeing  _ that _ look on her face. The position they were in wasn’t helping, either. He could feel the shake of her thighs, and knew that if he could put his fingers in that suit, he’d probably come away with them wet.

And by Salem, was he  **as hard as a damn rock** at that thought.

“Weiss has nothing to do with your vendetta. She’s just a girl. Hell, if you two would talk for awhile, I’m sure you two could hash this out and agree that her dad’s a giant fucking asshole-”

The sound of the door opening, and a soft voice interrupting made him almost turn his head, but he had to keep firm atop Blake. She may be unarmed, but there were plenty of weapons just laying around. “Is it over?” The melodic voice of Weiss Schnee asked, the normally pompous operetta’s voice shaky.

His gaze sharpened on Blake’s face as she tried to look past him, glaring beyond him at the white-haired girl’s voice. He didn’t have to look to know Weiss was probably barely dressed, since she tended to tuck in around this time. At best, she’d dressed enough to fight off a pursuer, but he doubted it.

Weiss Schnee wasn’t a killer like them. She was the target, and an easy one for Blake. She was a girl their age, and she’d spent more time dealing with politics and shady backroom dealings than people with guns and swords.

Myrtenaster might have been in her hands at best. Jaune didn’t think she’d have the wherewithal to use it well enough against Blake, who was a killer just below his own level.

Especially if she had both sets of weapons on her. Blake hadn’t been playing around, and it was probably the fact that neither wanted to kill the other that the fight had taken so long and ended without a wound for either. He couldn’t use his Semblance against her because it did exactly what it’s name said-  _ Kill _ \- and she hadn’t used an explosive variant of her Clones- or went for a maiming or killing blow when it would have been sensible to do so.

“Blake. You trusted me once, trust me again. You don’t want to kill Weiss.” He uttered softly, and with a few more struggles, the Faunus fell silent and looked up at him with eyes that spoke of a darkness that wanted to be unleashed-

-but also something that made him wonder just how he could have ever let her go.  _ Salem, how could I have ever been so  _ **_stupid_ ** _? _

__ Finally, when it seemed the fight had been stalled for the moment, he gently eased up pressure on her, and sat atop her, finally taking a deep and deserved breath. As blue stayed locked on amber, he noted, “I think it’s over for now, yeah, Weiss. The fight, at least.”

He didn’t dare call her Princess like he usually did. That alone would probably spark Blake into accusing him of fucking the Schnee and betraying her. Yeah, he wanted to stain her pink white, but that was neither here nor there when his terrorist ex-girlfriend was a horse hair away from knocking him off and going for the kill regardless.

_ Fuck, kitty, the amount she pays me could put our kids through college, damn. _ He thought, exasperated. “Listen. If you agree to sit and us talk this out, I’ll let you up. But that’s on your word. Arc word, everything or nothing, kitty.”

Blake’s glare intensified, and he could only sigh internally. “You want justice and equality for the Faunus, and Weiss can help with that, Blake.”

Why was he playing mediator right now? Fuck his life.

“Don’t make promise-” Weiss’ voice came from behind him, and he raised a hand backwards with a finger upraised.

“Princess, not when I’m trying to save your skin.” He cut her off, wincing inwardly at the use of the term he’d taken to calling the Heiress. Blake’s glare seemed level, so he could only thank Salem THAT didn’t go awry.

Really, was fifteen-thousand lien a month too little for this? Probably. But he hadn’t thought he’d be fighting his ex and then trying to keep her from making a repeat attempt. He could just let Blake kill Weiss, but damn it,  _ that was a lot of money for fuck all most of the time. _

Wait, fuck, the driver. “Weiss, call your driver and tell him to not send up the security team- I’ve got this handled-”

“You can’t handle shit!” Blake hissed, and he couldn’t help but snark back.

“I handled you pretty damn good, kitty- enough to make you purr!”

“You- I-” The flush once again on her features reminded him of just how darling she could be when she wasn’t on a tear about Faunus rights.  _ Why do I do this to myself? _

“I’d give Princess over there a front row seat to the best show on Remnant, Blake, but you know how much I love to look at -you- when we’re doing things. So, on your word, you’ll sit down with us and we’ll talk this through like adults who aren’t hired killers?”

Damn, that sounded funny even in his own head. Still, his eyes stayed firm on Blake’s face as she glared at him, and he watched the fight drain from her fully. Growling out softly, he relaxed as she uttered a “Arc word.”

As he hoisted himself up unto a knee, he reached down a hand and helped Blake up unto her feet, noting the familiarity and pleasure of her nearness to his senses. Sure, he’d dated her by killing her old boyfriend, but . . .

She’d been his first girlfriend. And damn him if he wasn’t sentimental like fuck.

He assessed the situation, making sure that the myriad of weapons was fully out of reach-  _ Wilt _ was stuck in the wall near the television, oops- and gently wound Blake’s wrists in his own gloved hands as he carefully turned around and put the Faunus in front of him while he looked at Weiss as she stood there, unsure of herself.

The Schnee girl was indeed just wearing a thin white nightgown, Myrtenaster clutched in her dominant left hand while icy blue eyes widened when she finally got to see who it was that he’d been restraining. “Blake Belladonna . . !” She whispered out, and he could only nod.

“Well, it’s good you two know each other, at least. That’ll make this easier. Now, Blake, preferably without making us continue with the foreplay- let’s hear your demands and, Weiss, you listen nice and gently to the most infamous Faunus Rights terrorist since her first boyfriend- who I shot and killed, by the way-” His cheek earned a snort from Blake, as well as a wry look over her shoulder “- and maybe we all get to walk out of this hotel instead of someone being carried out in a bodybag.”

  
_ And it’s probably going to be the Snow Princess, since I can’t bring it in me to shoot my ex. _ He muttered, mentally.


	3. Kingsmas and the Kitty, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kingsmas-
> 
> The Winter Solstice revered in Vale, hearkening back to the days of the Kingdom of Vale before it modernized. A celebration of giving gifts, of personal bonds, a time for family. Nowadays, it's considered a romantic holiday, and it's not uncommon for couples to go out for dinner or have more formal dates.

_ She was my everything. I was obsessed with her at first, because I couldn’t understand why I’d let her go. What was different between her and Adam Taurus, who it’d been so easy to just blow a hole in his head while he wasn’t prepared? _

__ _ Aura is a bitch like that. A properly executed sneak attack will kill someone with all the Aura in the world because they can’t use it to protect themselves from what they don’t know isn’t there. Not that I thought Adam had more Aura than I did, either. _

__ _ But yeah, me and Blake Belladonna. There’s a power couple if ever I heard it. The daughter of the Faunus Equality Association’s heads and most wanted Terrorist in all of Vale after I snuffed her boyfriend, and Salem’s personal assassin and spy. _

__ _ Yeah, sounds like a match made in a Grimm pit, doesn’t it? Well, I don’t need to tell you that I loved her. Fuck, I still love her. I’d probably still marry that bitch, put six kids in her, and do my damndest to make sure no one ever touched any of them. _

__ _ She’s the Lioness to my Lion, you dig? _

__ _ At the end of the day, the only thing that matters is that I tried. _

Awkward didn’t begin to cover it. On one end, in a chair with bullet marks, sat Blake Belladonna. Pro-Faunus terror activist and his ex-girlfriend, and on the couch nearby sat Weiss Schnee. The daughter of Jacques Schnee, the Dust tycoon who- despite Blake and many Faunus’ ideas to the contrary- wholly abused EVERYONE regardless of race. Jacques Schnee was, as Jaune liked to call them, an  _ equal opportunity asshole. _

It would have been simpler if he  **was** racist, if he was honest. At least then he could say that Blake had a good point. Instead, he could only agree with her when it came to real pieces of shit like the Winchester family, the Syfres, or Atlas’ council members who pushed more Faunus down to Mantle and out of the city in the clouds.

But he was just a hired gun. What did he know about politics? Oh, wait, right. His employer was Salem, who played those games like a rigged game of Blackjack where she kept getting aces and you only got high numbers.

Maybe he knew more about politics than your average person. He had to have an eclectic array of knowledge to make up for his lack of proper schooling somehow.

Oh, right. The girls in the room wanting to kill one another- or have the other killed. He really was bad at this kind of stuff. This was why he preferred assassinations and spreading a message. You either put a bullet in someone, or made them have “an unfortunate accident”, instead of playing mediator to two hard-line people.

This was going to suck. And not in the fun way.

“Alright. So, I’m gonna admit straight out that I have no clue how this is happening, beyond unfortunate circumstances, so I’m gonna open the floor. Blake, please don’t shoot Weiss. She’s paying me fifteen-thousand a month in retainer so I don’t get paid to shoot her.”

Blake’s glare turned onto him, and he winced.  _ Fuck. _ “I could-”

He cut her off before she’d continue, knowing what she’d say, “You know my rule. No counter-contracts.”

The grumbling of his Faunus ex-lover made his gaze turn onto Weiss. There was an easy way to do this, though he could only hope the white-haired girl would have the sense to want to preserve her life over being obstinate.

He didn’t like his odds. “Weiss, Blake hates your father. This isn’t personal-”

“It’s a little personal-” “You’re not helping, Blake-”

He cleared his throat, continuing even while Weiss levelled a much more ineffective glare at him in turn. “-she doesn’t know you. She doesn’t know your story, and the only way you can convince her to let this go is to show her that you’re -not- Jacques Schnee’s daughter, waiting to swoop in and abuse Faunus labor laws the same way your dad does.”

Shit, Raven’s tutoring may have been worth something after all. That almost sounded like a good argument.

“And why should I bother convincing her of anything? She tried to kill me.”  _ BECAUSE SHE TRIED TO KILL YOU. ISN’T THAT REASON ENOUGH? _

It wasn’t even that he thought Weiss was stupid, he knew very well she was one of the smartest girls he’d ever met- it was actually kind of hot in a way- but  _ fuck why do women always have to make things hard? _

He paused, and then snickered.

“What are you laughing at?” Both women glowered at him, and his good humor vanished instantly.  _ Just like that, too. Bitches. _

“You know me, Blake. Humor is the only way I can deal with stressful situations like this.” He remarked idly, sweeping his eyes between the two women. “Now, look. We’re in a “conflict of interests” situation. I’m not gonna kill Blake, and I would really prefer if all three of us got to walk out of this hotel by the end of the night. Now, I need some wiggle room, how can I make that happen?”

Both women stared at him in turn, and he could only sigh internally.  _ Mama always did hand me the easier jobs.  _ He already missed getting to just point and pull the trigger to solve a problem- or greasing the right wheel. It’d been too long since he’d got to enjoy making someone have an “accident” as opposed to the kind of things he shouldn’t have been dealing with on his days off.

His attention shifted unto Blake, the woman looking past him to where  _ Wilt and Blush, Gambol Shroud, La Tonerre, and Myrtenaster _ sat on the remains of the coffee table. He’d feel more apologetic if Weiss likely didn’t have the money to cover the damages to the suite. Besides, it was better some furniture got smashed up instead of the Heiress herself- or Salem forbid, him.

“Blake. I’d love nothing more than to go on at length about shit that has nothing to do with this situation, but I have to fix this first. So, I’m gonna shelf all that. Listen. Weiss isn’t her dad. She’s not a racist, she has no stake in what’s going on. The best you’d get is kidnapping her and demanding a ransom, and that’s not how you work, and we both know it.”

Blake’s stare levelled out at him, and he could only relax a bit more. Sure, they were both some of the biggest criminals in Vale- Blake a much more public figure than him, due to the nature of his job- but he knew she still had her pride. Taking money from the SDC would be the same as admitting that she was just like them. She’d crashed on his couch countless nights just because she didn’t have anywhere to live, if not as an excuse to slip into his bed because they were dating.

His attention moved onto Weiss next. The Heiress had shrugged on a bathrobe over her night-gown, and he could only be thankful for that. Seeing Blake alone was already playing hell on his hormones, and being caught between the two would have sent his imagination into overdrive.

And Jaune Arc’s imagination was a powerful force.  _ Long silver-white hair, cascading down a slim and beautiful dancer’s body- _

__ _ Not right now, boner. By Salem, please not right now. _

__ “Weiss, Blake is a product of the SDC’s greed. This isn’t your burden, but it’s where you can start to make a difference. And, hey, as a big fat bonus, Blake doesn’t try to pull a fast one on me and shoot you. Because the only thing keeping her in that seat right now is  _ me. _ And your money is  _ good _ , but it’s not  _ shoot my ex, who I still love  _ good.”

His confession drew two pairs of raised brows, and his own perked. "What? Was it something I said?"

"You still-" / "You're still in love with her?!"

Why was it they could only sync up when they were against him? His gaze remained firm on Weiss for the moment, though he heard the shuffling of Blake's heels against the floor and he stretched his arm out towards the weapons, lest she go for one.

Dramatic moments were often perfect timing for such things, after all. His eyes twisted away from the Heiress towards the Faunus, noting how she was staring at him with a different air from the intense glare she'd kept level at him.

"Yeah. Which is that whole conflict of interests thing. I like getting paid by her for what is normally a cushy gig, and suddenly I find myself having a blind stand off with Kitty." Which had been equal parts hot and scary, in hindsight. Not that Blake probably wasn't similarly aware of how their scuffle had . . . Excited him, either.

You weren't together for almost a year without learning the ins and outs- hahaha!- of one another's proclivities.

With Blake standing near him, looking unsure if she should reach out to touch him- or perhaps make a go for the weapons behind him- he turned his head firmly upon her again. Weiss wouldn't have the metaphorical balls to go for a weapon- especially not with him next to them.

He had the advantage in a hand to hand fight, but that could change rapidly if Blake made a move. He was so tense just then that he was pretty sure his ass-cheeks could compress a diamond. Finally, Weiss voice- more steady than it had been- came out from her side of the room. "So at best, you'd make her retreat and she'd just try again when you weren't around to protect me."

He thought it'd be simpler than that, really. Blake was already here, so it would be nothing to set up the room to explode or some hazard to kill the Heiress while she wasn't paying attention. Jaune knew Blake well, the only way Weiss was surviving this is if she was convinced Weiss was innocent of being a bigot out to oppress Faunus.

And fuck if that wasn't turning him on again. By Salem, she was  **so hot** when she was at work. Blake's eyes lilted low, and her lips curled lightly at a corner, ears flicking.  _ Busted. _

Jaune knew that things were about to go south quickly. "At best you tell Blake the same line you've told everyone about how you're not your father's toy, and Blake chooses to believe you instead of going with her knowledge that I can't protect you forever. And, by the way, I can't. Because I'm already contemplating a pay increase for the fact I am literally staring at one of the sexiest women I've had the pleasure of seeing naked, and instead of trying to see who will cry for mercy first, I'm trying to convince her to let you live, and my Boss owns my ass."

Blake gave a wry look, eyes flitting towards Weiss, a burst of  _ psychosis _ entering the amber orbs before they softened again. "You're just as bad at flirting as always. Still-" She started to reach out towards his hip, and his hand seized hers at the wrist, bringing their arms up into his eye-line alongside her face. His blue eyes hadn't left her amber ones since they'd started that  _ electric _ contest of wills that was just as much a part of what was turning him on as the sight of her.

_ Fuck, all these good memories. _ The explanation she’d given him about being with a Faunus- about the strength of eye-contact and how it was something to do with predator-prey relations, and a bunch of mumbo-jumbo he didn’t remember at all save for the fact that the thing that got her the most worked up was when he would stare her down and-

_ Woo, okay, need to cut that thought off. It’s going to be real difficult to keep these negotiations going with my dick hard. _

**[Now Playing: Biodrive - Psychopath]**

He saw the tensing of her opposing shoulder, and he mentally sighed. His left leg rose and her knee crashed into his. “-Give me that-!” She hissed, and he whipped her arm up with his own, trying to keep her from twisting out of his reach and getting closer to the pile of weapons nearby.  _ Semblance, she’ll feint towards the weapons but then go for Weiss- _

As his grip slackened around air, he turned and threw himself after the dark-haired Faunus as his vision adjusted to seeing Blake within mere feet of sinking her hands into the Heiress’ throat. Aura enhanced Strength was no joke, even if Weiss had it as well. Better not to let the girl’s singing voice get ruined by a good throttling-

-he caught a fistful of raven locks and yanked back, the curtain of silky ink-black holding as Blake’s head shuttered back and she let loose a howl of frustration and pain. He caught up with her just as she started to wrench back around in his grip, the fury on her face exquisite in it’s feral allure. He saw the leg coming up and stepped into the kick, feeling the meat of her thigh slap into his hip instead of her knee registering into a much more sensitive place-

-Blake always had been a cheap shot dealer-

-as he tried to corral her by her hair and his hand grasping for her throat again. In his peripheral view, Weiss was looking terrified as she scrambled back further into the couch cushions, and he had to agree that was the most sensible thing to do- not get in their way while they fought.

Her arm cocked, and he brought his own up to shield against the elbow coming towards his head. His other arm came in and curled before he aimed an uppercut right at her diaphragm right below the breasts. Between being stuck with her hair in his fist and on one leg, the punch connected and a  **whuff** of air escaped her lovely lips as he knocked the breath from her lungs.

_ Fuck. I am not gonna be able to deal with this erection later. _ He gritted his teeth as she came up with her head, and he had to step back and let go of her hair to keep from getting his chin broken against her skull. He couldn’t let up on the aggression, however, or Blake would find an opening to get after Weiss.

His hand came up in a knife-hand strike towards her throat, the attack slapped aside by Blake’s hand before she tried to counter with a body-blow that he tightened his torso against and let his Aura take the blow. Using the moment she had to reset her stance to step in, he hooked both arms under her armpits and hooked them back towards himself, pressing the flats of his palms against her chin and  **pushing** as he stressed her neck muscles and raised her up off the ground. It was a hold that he could only do on Blake because of their severe height difference, and he knew the first response she’d level against him, so he tightened his body to her’s-

-and tried to ignore the way when her legs came up to wrap around him for stability, it felt more like they were about to do something much more  _ intimate. _ Or the way her core and his  _ rock hard fucking cock _ was pressed so tightly together the only thing keeping them FROM fucking was their clothes still being on. Blake’s gasping only further encouraging that lovely delusion in his head as she tried to use her abdominal muscles to bend backwards and drag him forward into a throw.

He went with the momentum, shunting Aura to his legs and putting more force into the movement to carry them over the couch Weiss scrambled away from with a yelp. He landed hard on his back, and he winced at the bruise that would likely form later, and noted in his head  _ She’s used her Semblance at least four times, her Aura must be low. She might have one more in her, but a good hit would stop that _ .

As his eyes stared at her face, her legs still wrapped tightly around his hips, he felt the undeniable friction of her grinding into him and making him try desperately to ignore just how turned on he was as her mouth tried to pry open from his hold, but instead she hissed through her teeth. “Gd tuh c ha sthl trn hyu hon-”

_ Turn him on? _ He could beat someone to death with his cock just then. Hell, he was tempted to  _ try _ just so he could say he’d done something TYRIAN hadn’t!

“Are you two  _ fighting _ or  _ fucking?! _ ” Weiss screeched, and despite himself, he turned his head- and missed how Blake put her eyes towards the white-haired woman.

“BOTH!” / “OOFH!”

His eyes met Blake’s again, and he saw the psychotic gleam in them that just wasn’t making any of this easier as her hips rolled against his, and he knew she was playing a very different game now.  _ Oh, you fucking cheating ass bitch- _

He tucked his hips up and flung himself with his legs, trying to roll them over and meeting Blake’s own momentum as they began to roll on the floor, glad that the wood floors weren’t going to offer a most hellacious bout of carpet burn to either of them, before they ended up slammed against a wall and he wrenched her arms up more, earning a squeal of pain as her heels dug into the meat of his thighs again. The insistent problem in his pants even more distracting as he put all of his weight atop the Faunus and glared into her eyes that glowed with mischief,  **hunger** , and  **murder.**

By Salem, she was beautiful. And if he didn’t think she’d find some way to kill Weiss mid-coitus- and probably make him cum on the spot- he’d have been doing everything in his power just then to advance this fun bout of foreplay to the real deal.

The sound of loud yelling beyond the door reminded him that Weiss never had managed to call the driver, and that meant their playtime was over. The fun part now was that he had to get Blake out instead of keeping the girl from killing Weiss.

Why was life always so complicated? He paused atop Blake, and noted, “Okay, so. That’s Weiss’ top security detail, who are probably going to shoot us both-”

Blake’s eyes stayed settled on his, and he relaxed the pressure on her jaw, those kissable lips parting open as she spoke, “We can take them. Come on.”   
  
“Baby, the only cumming I want to do is  **in you.** ”

“Ugh, you two are -disgusting.-” The peanut gallery comments from Weiss were funnier than he’d admit, but at that moment he was stuck between agreeing to anything Blake said as long as he got to  _ ruin _ her, and  _ fifteen-thousand-fucking-lien a month. _

Could you put a price on good pussy? Probably. Was Blake worth fifteen-thousand-lien a month? Maybe. Did that matter right then, when at best Blake would get away mad and resume trying to kill Weiss? “Weiss, get out!” It was the only warning he was going to give the white-haired woman, and he hoped she listened.

Adjusting himself over as he tucked them into another roll back towards the couch, he husked under his breath, “Grab your shit, we’re going out the window. And then, we have to talk.” Her gaze went unto him, and he shunted himself up unto his knees and then rolled them back over the couch just before his arms uncoiled from Blake’s head and he grasped for  _ La Tonerre _ and  _ Wilt and Blush _ , while Blake’s arm rapidly went towards  _ Gambol Shroud. _

“Well, this is the last fucking thing I wanted to do tonight, but-” He pushed Aura into his legs and braced- then flung himself towards the bulletproof windows while spiralling, so that he’d hit the glass instead of Blake.

Important distinction to be noted about the bulletproof glass of hotels like this, it was only rated against penetration by a projectile of a smaller size.

It tended not to do so well when it was struck by a Huntsman flying into it with a much greater mass and weight than even a Dust-enhanced round.

**KUURRRRAAASHNNKKK-**

And as the struggling pair of assassins quarreled in midair, their Auras weakened further by the force of shattering the glass and then the glass cutting into it, he let his eyes settle upon Blake, who’d kept him wrapped tightly in her legs as they started to free-fall. As she wound  _ Gambol’s _ ribbon around her arm again, he adjusted himself up and buried his face into her chest while holding onto her middle with the weapons in his hands pressed against her back.

_ Ahh. At least if I die like this, it’ll be with a boner. _ _ Oh, hey, her nipples are h- _ “-UUK!?” The sudden jar of his body as their situation with gravity changed from freely falling downwards into a momentum-fueled swing.  _ Oh shit, I honestly expected her to let me drop. _ _ Check one for the “Maybe she doesn’t want to kill me” column. _ His head came away from her breasts- unfortunately- and he noted the ascent of their swing. Keeping his arms around her- and totally not noticing how her legs were still wrapped around him, no sir, not even a bit- he watched as  _ Gambol’s _ scythe-like blade unhooked from the building and he prepared to brace for landing atop a building with his Aura-

-and then promptly let out a pained grunt as he tucked them both into a roll across a shingled roof.  _ Oww-oww-oww-oww-oww-- _

-and fell down from said roof, glad when Blake sunk the blade of  _ Gambol _ into the side of the building and tore off their momentum- even though it probably ate the remainder of her Aura and he could feel her shaking with exertion as a result. Still, with them almost at ground level, he let go of Blake and braced for the- he hoped- last impact of the night. Tucking into a roll was harder with  _ Wilt and Blush _ in his hand, but as he shoved  _ La Tonerre _ into his holster again, he attached the sheath and sword to the magnetic clips of his belt and held his arms out. Blake tore her weapon free from the wall and stumbled in her attempt to kick away from it.

_ Saw that coming. _ It didn’t make him panic less as he corrected himself into a charge and a slide to catch the worn out ravenette. As much as he wanted to slump to the ground and catch a breather, he had just enough Aura to get them back out of range of the hotel before Weiss would likely start blowing up his proxy number with annoying voice mails.

Because he sure as fuck wasn’t going to answer her right now.  _ Kingsmas came early! _ “Well, hi there, baby. You swing by here often?”

Blake, still gasping and wheezing, found the energy to raise the hand wound with  _ Gambol _ ’s ribbon and fire the bird at him.

“That was the plan, yeah.”

Despite his desire- and need to, sometimes- to talk, tucking into the alleys and working through the populace of Vale again while keeping to the shadows to avoid police cruisers and anyone who might recognize Blake’s face, he didn’t have to travel as far to get back to the safehouse. Vaulting himself up and then having to feed Blake in through the window while she had started to recover, he settled her on the couch and then went to make himself comfortable.

The tensity of the silence remained as Blake finally got her wits about her, and Jaune slipped his coat off onto the sole chair in the “living room” of the studio-style apartment-safehouse, pulling a pair of glass-bottle teas from the refrigerator and-

_ The smell of menthol and her brand of tobacco.  _ The soft exhale, and for a moment, the world felt like it was  _ right  _ again. He slumped bonelessly against the door of the fridge, and let a sob tear itself from his throat as his arms shielded his face from the cool metallic surface.

After a few moments to recover from that second of weakness, he stood up straight again and strode back towards her on the couch, noting the cigarette perked up against her lips- bent at an odd angle from likely getting crushed during their little bout- and he offered her the second bottle of Mistralian tea. “Merry Kingsmas, Blake.” He broke the silence, finally, offering the neck of his bottle towards her.

Her amber eyes gazed up at him in turn, and- after a moment- she  **clack** ed the neck of her own bottle against his own. “Merry Kingsmas, Jaune.”

As he slumped unto the couch next to her, unlacing his boots and kicking them off under the table, _her heel hooked the remote and sent it up into the air_ _and he caught it._ His finger slipped unto the button and the television flipped on, the sizeable screen talking about late news before he hit the mute function and let his eyes drift towards her face, illuminated by the display, and took in the way her cigarette was already almost half gone.

Her eyes cocked towards him, though her head didn’t turn. And, finally, he started to speak as she leaned forward enough to toss her jacket and  _ Gambol _ onto the coffee table. “Blake-”

“Jaune, shut up and kiss me.”

So he did. And a whole lot more.


	4. A Rose Blooming Under Neon Lights, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Much shorter than I'd like to put out, but it's an update nonetheless, so you can see what's going on in the story without me sitting there trying to get the chapter up to snuff.

_ When I was a kid, Raven was the one who taught me how to schmooze. How to control a room or people with just some words and a few gestures. Sure, she’s a badass bitch, too, but I could only wonder how it was the world famous Jazz singer could be so disconnected from things. Salem treated me like one of her kids at times, but Raven? _

__ _ Raven was always upset about something. It wasn’t until I met Yang later that I understood what it was. Raven hated the fact that she wasn’t a better mother, and it took me meeting her daughters to know how that came to be. _

__ _ If she weren’t on the circuit, I’d have told her that she didn’t do half bad. Just between us, though? _

__ _ She’d probably kill my ass if I told her how hot Yang is. Which might be better than what Ruby would ever do to me, if she found out the truth. _

Jaune plucked his scroll from his bedside table as it vibrated loudly, eyeballing the short, sweet, and to-the-point message that stood out on the screen.

**I have your homework. - Mama**

His head shook as he pulled himself up from the bed, noting Blake’s sleeping face as he opened the proxy-server that always hid away the details of his jobs or the more important and security-intensive bits of his life. It was hidden behind the fingerprint scan- using his left instead of his dominant right in case someone got the Scroll and somehow some idea of how to access the hidden functions of his electronic- and a password that he really did need to change- or maybe he didn’t?

His eyes swept over the tired features of his lover. They still hadn’t talked yet about the breakup, but- well- the sex had been fantastic. Even better than he remembered, if he was honest. Nonetheless, his eyes perused the file and he could only feel a cold sweat break across his skin as he looked at a pair of silver eyes, and then a set of emerald greens. The names on the page not matched by the pictures of the two girls in casual settings-

**Chapter Two**

**A Rose Blooming Under Neon Lights**

-alerting him to the facts of the matter. More cops who wouldn’t play ball with Cinder Fall- or maybe Mama herself. It never mattered when it came down to it, but a job was a job, and once again, Jaune found himself staring at more zeros than some people saw in a year.

_ She wants them watched, though? _ He mused, reading through the fairly detailed personal history that had been gleaned from Dr. Watts’ attachment to the city’s intranet grid, and whatever could be gathered by Cinder’s lackeys.  _ Kind of a change of pace. Still… _

He looked at those silver eyes again, and he could only shake his head. He often forgot how his mother had a sense of humor. A twisted, warped one- he'd learned some of his best lines from her, after all- but putting him on espionage within the law enforcement was a mess.

A stirring at his side drew his attention, just in time for Blake's hands to claw around his neck, not quite yet strangling him but insinuating that she would when his blue eyes met her amber ones. "We just got back together and you're already looking at other women?" She hissed, showcasing those elongated canines and pearly white teeth. Her morning breath, however, was  **fierce.** _ Salem forbid we have this discussion after brushing our teeth. _

The important part of dealing with Blake's. . . possessiveness, was remaining calm. She wanted to be controlled in some ways, and adored in others. This was partially a test of his worthiness and partially just her own fears of how he might stray from her. They'd had the fight over and over again- but it was never more serious than a good batch of makeup sex could cure.

"It's work." Jaune noted, carefully- and slowly- setting his scroll back on the bedside table. "More cops who won't bend over backwards to Cinder, probably."

Blake's hands relaxed around his neck, and he nodded as she promptly rubbed one palm against her eyes and let out a yawn before stretching like a cat would, sending the covers that had been pretending to preserve her modesty (and his) pooling at her hips.

_ Yes, ma'am. _ He thought to himself, privately, getting a very generous eyeful of her breasts, toned stomach, and the bruises that still dotted her neck and shoulders, with plenty more likely all over her inner thighs. It had been a few days since Kingsmas, so none of the damage from their flight from Weiss' hotel remained.

He'd even salvaged the contract with the Heiress for now, which he personally thought would have been dead in the water. In his opinion, things were coming up caster. Blake was easy to distract with a lot of sex and the collection of books he'd kept- alongside some of her wardrobe that he would swear he never looked at when he missed her most. Did he think she'd given up on taking Weiss out?

Fuck no.

But a sore dick was a damn good price to pay for another month of payments. Even if he'd prefer they talked out what made them split in the first place.

As he leaned back in bed, watching her bend over him to fish the second to last cigarette from her tin- one she'd left when she walked out on him- he let an arm wrap around her middle and she didn't fight it as she flicked her reusable lighter- stylized with a black version of the White Fang's symbol on the fat thing- and lit the menthol.

He pulled her closer and she rested her mussed bed-head against his shoulder, still tender from her metaphorical claws. "I missed you." She finally said, breaking the silence.

"I missed you too, Kitten." It was an awkward time to talk about it, but they'd settled almost back into the routine from before she'd left. Wake up, he'd make breakfast, she'd shower first and then they'd eat, he'd shower and find her afterwards curled up with one of her books. They'd have sex, or just sit and watch whatever cheap drama played on TV, then they'd have lunch. He'd go through the ritual of cleaning and prepping  _ La Tonerre _ ,  _ Belle Mort, La Sorcière,  _ or  _ Gambol Shroud _ for her. She preferred to be the one to deal with  _ Wilt and Blush _ . It was obvious to people in their circle, but her willingness to let him touch  _ Gambol Shroud  _ at all was telling of her trust in him.

It was nice. Like she'd never left, though he had to admit the tension he felt around her was palpable enough that he had a feeling she was giving into the routine more to comfort him rather than for a wish to return to it. As she blew a spectre made out of menthol smoke, he continued.

"Are you going to stay?" It was on the nose, but playing games wasn't something they did. He, because he sucked at it, and she because she valued the honesty she could share only with him.

"Do you want me to?" She asked, and he didn't even think about it.

"Yes."

"Then, you're stuck with me." She remarked, those eyes of hers stuck fast on his own, while those lips that made him feel so weak, so hungry to kiss her, perked up behind the filter of her cigarette.

He smiled. "I love you." And he meant it. Of all the people in the world, she was the only one who wasn't an immortal witch who he trusted.

Salem may have caused the death of his family, but what was there to say about that other than that he'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time?

"You don't know how to love." She accused with no real heat to her voice, and when he simply shrugged in return, she let out a sigh and another smoky breath. "I love you too, baby."

They were both fucked up, but that was fine. It meant they belonged together, deserved one another. Hell, by animal “law” he’d taken her to be his.

He’d never say that out loud near Blake, lest she get testy, but it was an entertaining thought.

“When do you start?” She asked, and he accepted the change from a serious topic to work.

“Tonight, probably. I have Rose’s schedule, so I’ll make the approach while she’s out and about.” He squeezed her hip with a hand, growing amused when Blake gave him a dry look.

“Don’t hit on her.” She remarked, and he nodded his head.

“Try my best, promise.”

“Arc Word?”   
  
“If I could give it, I would.”

“That will have to do.”

Instead of giving in to the routine, he squeezed into the shower with her. Mutually washing one another and not obeying his urges to push his lover against the wall and make good on a whole lot of loneliness that still wasn’t quite fucked out. All of that and more could be dealt with later, after he’d started progress on the two Detectives.

Just in case, he sent a message to Weiss to warn her that he had to start a job, and thus Blake might be feeling frisky. Would it save her ass if Blake decided to make good on his absence? Probably not, but it’d show that he was trying, if nothing else. To some people, that wouldn’t be good enough- but fuck those people.

Jaune Arc tried his best, and that’s always what mattered. He couldn’t ingratiate himself with the Rose girl and keep a handle on Blake at the same time. Not without some things that were likely only to exist in his fantasies, and not in reality, anyway.

He wasn’t deluded.

+x+x+x+x+

  
  


Approaching Pyrrha Nikos was considerably harder than her partner, since the girl was still infamous for her days in the Mistralian arenas. Reading her dossier had been a step in unfamiliar territory.

Was it weird for him to feel like someone had a more fucked up childhood than he had? And she’d ended up on the complete opposite end of the law from him. What did that say about his life, if a girl raised to fight for sport and entertain the masses baying for blood ended up a hero of the people for it instead of a creature that lurked in the shadows, tickling the spines of whoever Salem said didn’t need to keep drawing breath?

The important part of a coincidental meeting was to play a bit with fire. Jaune knew everything there was to know about Ruby Rose that was catalogued -somewhere-, and more than that, even. Still, as he walked through the business sector, musing on the irony of visiting a Dust-shop  **not** to buy ammo for one of his weapons, he tucked the collar of his beige waist-coat up against his jawline to keep the chill of the air off of his neck.

_ La Sorcière _ was the first weapon he’d ever held in his hands, and thus it was of a more reasonable make. It made for a good disguise piece since it didn’t have the obvious mark of modifications that most with more sense of a weapon would notice immediately.

The fact it was maybe half of the hand-cannon’s size was just another mark of favor for it as a concealed weapon. The most customized thing about it was the pleasant paintjob of gunmetal blue with red accents, a quiet showcase of his devotion to Salem when he’d first started training under Tyrian and Raven.

It didn’t have the same comfortable, familiar weight  _ La Tonerre _ did, but he’d live without her for the night.

  
  


**[Smash Into Pieces - All Eyes On You]**

  
  


He could only laugh to himself when he came upon the sight of a group of men in suits approaching the shop with Roman at the head. What terrible timing could have brought this mess to light? A glance within saw the detective with her distinctive long red coat draped over her shoulders, perusing a display for the latest Atlesian accessory.

Seems like he had his work cut out for him once again.


	5. DISCONTINUED NOTICE

Hey, folks.

I hate to say it, but I'm discontinuing Maneater, mostly off the cuff of my life having been an utter mess for the better part of 2020. While I loved this story, and had lots of plans for it, I can't in good conscious make any of you wait for an update any longer. So, instead, I'm discontinuing it.

For those of you who enjoyed the fic, thank you for supporting me this far. I apologize deeply, but I hope you'll find more works to grow excited about.


End file.
